


It was a dark and stormy night—but Dorian might not mind that anymore

by Khoshekh42



Series: Pride Month Fics 2020 [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoshekh42/pseuds/Khoshekh42
Summary: It's storming while camping at the Storm Coast, and it's bringing up bad memories for Dorian.Bull comforts him.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Pride Month Fics 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770448
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	It was a dark and stormy night—but Dorian might not mind that anymore

It’s not that Dorian was frightened of the storm, it was just a combination of rational concern for whether their camp would make it through the night, and the fact that it was dredging up unpleasant memories of Tevinter.

So the cold sweat that was pooling on his back as he desperately tried to fall asleep wasn’t that of fear—Dorian Pavus wasn’t afraid of a mere thunderstorm, after all.

Dorian was using every trick in the book short of casting a sleeping charm on himself, distraction, breathing rhythmically, for fuck’s sake he’d even tried counting sheep.

But he was just as awake as he had been hours before.

“Hey, Big Guy.” The Iron Bull’s voice rumbled from a few feet next to him. As if Dorian had needed a reminder that the Qunari he was currently crushing on (if Dorian would ever deign himself to using such a word) was a mere arm’s length away.

“Yes, Bull?” Dorian’s voice was perhaps a little more tense than he would have liked.

“You good? You keep flinching at every flash of lightning.” And Bull, damn the man for being so nice, actually sounded concerned.

Dorian sighed, momentarily thanking the Maker that the Inquisitor had decided to bring Sera along instead of Varric, leaving the so dubbed by Sera ‘Stinky boy’s tent’ to Dorian and Bull alone. Sharing with Varric would be a nightmare during the already shitty situation.

“I’m fine.”

There was the sound of shifting next to him, and when Dorian turned to look, Bull was sitting upright (or, as upright as the tent allowed him to be without tearing a hole in the top of the tent.

“You sure? I’m having trouble sleeping too, so you aren’t keeping me up if you want to talk.”

The side of the tent fluttered violently in the winds of the Storm Coast.

Dorian stayed silent for a minute, but Bull didn’t lie back down, or say anything else.

“Just… bad memories.” Dorian said finally, sitting up, but not quite facing Bull, “It was storming the day I left.”

Dorian blinked, the memories flooding him—

_The lightning crashed as his father had caught him by the arm, slicing a thin, deep line into Dorian’s arm._

_“It’s for your own good,” He’d been told by Halward, as if Halward knew enough about Dorian to know what was best for him._

_Dorian had been able to wrench himself out of his father’s grasp._

_He’d ran out into the rain, running, running, until he found himself at Maevaris’s front gate, lightheaded from the blood loss, soaking from the rain._

_Mae had taken him in for a few hours, but by morning he knew he had to be gone._

Dorian blinked again, surprised at the wetness on his face, wondering momentarily if Bull _had_ torn a hole in the tent.

He was rubbing his arm, where the scar was.

“I shouldn’t still be so… _broken_.” He whispered, uncertain whether Bull would even be able to hear him over the rain outside, but judging by the expression on Bull’s face, he’d heard.

“You’re not broken, Dorian.” Bull said this with such force that Dorian wondered, just for a second, whether he was right.

“Look at me, I’m a disaster.” Dorian laughed weakly, “I’m frightened of a fucking _thunderstorm_.”

“And I’m still having nightmares about Adamant.” Bull shrugged. “S’why I couldn’t get to sleep tonight, at least.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it? Hell, I just about shit myself last fade rift. Demons fucking suck, whether they’re mental demons, or actual physical ones.”

Dorian, as he stared down into his lap, vision wavering as he stared through tears, felt a calloused hand find his cheek and wipe away tears. Without even thinking, Dorian leaned ever so slightly into Bull’s hand, into its warmth, into its comfort.

“Thank you.” Dorian’s voice felt as rough, but gentle as the the hand on his cheek was.

A surge of stupidity, desperation, and Dorian was kissing Bull.

But then Bull was kissing back, and it didn’t seem stupid anymore.


End file.
